Venice: city of corruption, sickness and decay – not to mention a great tourist destination. You've heard it all before, from Don't Look Now to Casino Royale.But the city has also played a crucial role in the development of opera – perhaps more than you might expect, given that we tend to consider the city's golden age to have ended with the 16th century. Venice has been home to countless opera premieres; it has provided a home for some of the most prolific Italian operatic composers; and its reputation of putrefying glory has directly inspired several great operas.

Claudio Monteverdi arrived in Venice in 1613 as the maestro di cappella of San Marco. He had already created opera's first masterpiece, Orfeo, in Mantua in 1607. In Venice he wrote the only two other of his operas to have survived, Il ritorno d’Ulisse in patria (The Return of Ulysses to his Homeland) and L'incoronazione di Poppea (The Coronation of Poppea). The latter was probably his last work, written when he was 76 and first performed in 1643. It glorifies the ruthlessly ambitious Nerone and Poppea in their triumph over the forces of good and offers a compelling psychological insight into the pair, anticipating opera’s greatest anti-heroes.

And what of the operas in which Venice itself plays a role? Composers have delighted in exploiting not only the (assumed) atmosphere of degradation but also the music specific to the city, particularly the gondolier's barcarolle. Rossini's Otello is set entirely in Venice, and the offstage gondolier's serenade 'Nessun maggior dolore' ('There is no greater sorrow') just before Desdemona's dreadful demise is one of the opera's most effective moments. Donizetti's Lucrezia Borgia, on the unfortunate (if rather silly) death of the title character's long lost son at her own hands, was one of the great successes of his career. And both Donizetti and Verdi sought inspiration from the Venetian doges – particularly the conflicting demands of duty and familial love – in Marino Faliero and I due Foscarirespectively.

Amilcare Ponchielli had his great hit with La Gioconda, in which the evil Barnaba has a malicious barcarolle 'Pescator, affonda l'esca' ('A fisherman awaiting the tide'). Jacques Offenbach set part of his fantasy triptych Les Contes d'Hoffmannin Venice, writing arguably the most famous operatic barcarolle in 'Belle nuit, ô nuit d'amour' ('Beautiful night, night of love'). And Britten's Death in Venice paints a breathtaking portrait of the city: the fruit-sellers and their cholera-carrying strawberries; youths frolicking on the Lido; affluent tourists laughing at a bawdy song in Venetian dialect; and most of all the lilting call of 'Serenissima', at times languid, at others a cruel taunt of lost youth and spent passion – the perfect encapsulation of the dreams and desires this city has inspired.

The devil crops up in opera from around the mid-19th century, as composers increasingly turned to gothic stories and folktales for inspiration. To begin with, he was a minor presence – like Samiel in Weber’s Der Freischütz (1821), who exists only as a threatening voice in the Wolf’s Glen scene. However, by 1831 he had taken centre stage, as Bertram in Meyerbeer’s Robert le diable. Bertram’s progress from Act I's jocular-macabre prankster, through Act III's terrifying hell-raiser and finally to the melancholy father of Act V is one of the most interesting aspects of Meyerbeer’s masterpiece.

An explosion of musical interest in Goethe’s verse-drama Faust led to yet more fascinating devils stalking across the operatic boards. Each operatic interpretation of Goethe’s devil, Mephistopheles, is different. Berlioz (La Damnation de Faust, 1846; originally a dramatic oratorio, now often performed as an opera) makes him a pitiless villain, who tricks Faust into their pact, then sweeps him to the infernal regions in the terrifying ride to Hell. Gounod’s Méphistophélès (Faust, 1859) can be almost as vicious, as in the Act IV cathedral scene with Marguerite, but has a dandyish charm, exemplified in his Act II aria ‘Le Veau d’or’ and the Act III quartet. Boito made the title character of Mefistofele (1868) a nihilistic philosopher, who enters the pact with Faust after he has made a wager with the heavenly host that he can corrupt a good man. He expresses his contempt for both mankind and heaven in his Act I aria ‘Son lo spirito che nega sempre tutto’ – a thrilling piece, both frightening and blackly humorous.

Offenbach learnt from Gounod and Boito that devils are at their most compelling when they combine malignancy with charm and wit, and used his knowledge in the creation of the four villains (usually sung by one performer) in Les Contes d’Hoffmann (1881). Offenbach’s devils are thoroughly unpleasant – and yet we appreciate their dry humour (as in Counsellor Lindorf’s ‘Dans les rôles d’amoureux langoureux’) and suave repartee (as in Dapertutto’s elegant ‘Scintille, diamant’). Nothing, though, stops them from being merciless – like all demonic figures.

Unless that is, they are devils from Russia and Eastern Europe. These are usually more cheerful and tameable than their western counterparts. The devil in Tchaikovsky’s The Tsarina’s Slippers (Cherevichki, 1887) is more interested in courting the witch Solokha (with whom he has the delightful folksy duet ‘Osedlayu Pomelo’ in Act I) than in causing destruction. True, he tries half-heartedly to get the hero Vakula’s soul, but once Vakula vanquishes him with a crucifix he becomes docile, and plays a vital part in bringing the story to its happy end. Meanwhile in Dvořák’s comic opera The Devil and Kate (1899) the devil Marbuel turns out to be a coward; no match for the sharp-tongued village girl Kate, who uses his terror of her to win wealth and status.

Though the 19th century was really the devil's operatic heyday, he had one final great incarnation as Nick Shadow in Stravinsky’s The Rake’s Progress(1951). Like all great devils, Nick has his attractive side. What could be more enticing than his promises to Tom of wealth and loyal service? And his jolly banter with his master (as in the Act II duet ‘My tale shall be told, Both by young and by old’) certainly shows his diabolic humour. Even when he plays cards for Tom’s soul in Act III Shadow maintains a certain charm. However, he’s certainly not to be trusted, and once he’s lost at cards (despite cheating) he reveals a terrifying malignancy in his closing infernal aria ‘I burn! I freeze!’, condemning Tom to insanity as he descends to Hell.

However charming they may appear, and whatever they promise you, devils are not to be meddled with!

From the city of Troy with its enormous fire-breathing horse (Les Troyens) to a fairytale fantasy land with magical rabbit holes (Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland), the set is an integral part of any opera or ballet.

On the heels of Metamorphosis: Titian 2012, a trio of new ballets that included designs by leading visual artists Conrad Shawcross, Mark Wallinger and Chris Ofili, we take a look at a selection of other artists who have also turned their hand to set design.

In 1949, opera audiences were outraged by Peter Brook’s production of Salome, which featured designs by the controversial surrealist painter Salvador Dalí. Brook, Director of Productions at the Royal Opera House, believed that Dalí was the only painter capable of capturing both the “erotic degeneracy of Strauss’s [music] and the imagery of Oscar Wilde’s [story]”. However, Dalí’s bold designs, which included surrealist costumes and freakish pomegranate and peacock-feather sets, were considered by some to reduce the opera to a farce - we can only wonder what the audience would have thought of the flying hippopotamus that Dalí had originally planned to include in the production!

The Rake’s Progress, choreographed by founder of The Royal Ballet Ninette de Valois (distinct from the opera by Stravinsky), was inspired by a series of paintings by social satirist William Hogarth. Based in murky 18th-century London, they depict the fall from grace of a young man corrupted by wealth. English painter, designer and illustrator Rex Whistler designed the set and costumes for the 1935 production. His designs, which evoke the colours of Hogarth’s London, are still used today – the ballet was last performed by The Royal Ballet in 2006. Whistler was also noted for his illustrations for books such as Gulliver’s Travels and Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tales.

Sidney Nolan, one of the foremost modern artists of the 20th century, was known for his paintings based on folklore. In 1962, he designed the set for Kenneth MacMillan’s The Rite of Spring. The ballet, defined by Stravinsky’s dissonant score, angular choreography and a pagan storyline, is a milestone in the development of Modernism. Nolan set the ballet in a nightmarish vision of aboriginal Australia. The dancers wear unisex lycra unitards that are dyed the colour of Australia’s red sand and, to mimic aboriginal body art, decorated with hand prints. The Rite of Spring was last performed at the Royal Opera House in June 2011.

David Hockney, set and costume design for The Rake’s Progress, 1975, andDie Zauberflöte, 1978.

David Hockney, one of the most popular British artists of the 20th century, is known in particular for his iconic pop art of the 1960s. In the 70s, however, he began to develop operatic stage designs and created elaborate sets for productions in New York, France and Vienna. His stylized neoclassical set and costumes for Glyndebourne’s production of The Rake’s Progress in 1975 is widely considered to be a benchmark staging of the opera. Similarly, in 1978, his colourful set for Die Zauberflöte at Glyndebourne, which emphasised ancient Egyptian motifs and magical themes, received as much critical acclaim as the performance itself.

Jamie Hewitt, set and costume design for Monkey: Journey to the West,2008.

Comic book artist Jamie Hewitt is best known for being one half of virtual-band Gorillaz. He made his first foray into opera in 2007 when he collaborated with Blur frontman Damon Albarn in Monkey: Journey to the West. A 90-minute rock 'n' roll circus, the production included stunning acrobatics, choreographed fights and distinctive comic-book-style animation. Though described by some as a cartoon opera, there can be no doubt that it packed an impressive visual punch.